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Life stories

Nate told his life story at tonight's potluck. We take turns each month, inviting each other into our stories on a deeper level. Nate told us about growing up in Seattle, showed us slides of his years in China, and shared so very much of himself. It was honest and beautiful. Twice in the darkness, there were tears in my eyes.

They weren't for Nate. They were for me.

Not that I wasn't listening, engaged, moved. But the whole time, I thought, "How can I share myself like this?" And the answer, the one behind the tears, was, "I cannot." Cannot or will not, unwilling or unable, seems basically a matter of semantics. Whichever the case, this wonderful group of people, through no fault of their own, won't be able to access my life in the same way, in an open embrace.

That's not about past wounds, either. They are trustworthy people, good people. If my past were full of abuse or shame, I know they could be allowed in as bearers of love and healing. We need that, all of us. No, it's about my history, my identity, and it's different than that. If I could better explain, there'd be no dilemma to consider.

No point in dwelling further now. Not the end of the world, as they say. Just confusing, hard, and alone.

Comments

Talk about being an international man of mystery!

Re:

This made me laugh: since we're on different continents, it's literally true!